Harry Potter and the Diabolical Directorate
by grammar conscious possum
Summary: Ambition, a lust for power, and coldblooded cruelty: the perfect recipe for success in the business world. The new director of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes is taking the company to strange new places...


Harry Potter and the Diabolical Directorate

Certain rituals have for centuries been associated with the end of the final NEWT examination at Hogwarts, traditionally that of Potions, and this year was no exception.

It begins with a rush of teens from the examination hall, a lump-in-the-throat generating last singing of the school song after McGonagall's (or, alas, formerly Dumbledore's) speech, continues with a furious destruction of textbooks and robes by the lake using the most potent of fire spells, and ends with vodka slammers and illegal substance abuse in Klub Kauldron, fisticuffs with the Hogsmeade Constables, and the occasional unexpected baby or two.

This year was no exception.

Harry Potter flung the contents of his schoolbag onto the grass by the lake, tore his robe off and threw it on top, and with wand pointed shouted "Illuminabus." In a second they had vaporised, leaving nothing but a small pile of ash, a zipper, and a charred book cover marked "Latex Monthly" that Hermoine could not recall as being on the curriculum..

"You are just being destructive. This is a stupid custom and I am keeping all my books for future reference."

"All bloody right for you, Hermoine, you could study in peace this year and no doubt will get A+s in everything. I could just not bloody concentrate, wondering where Voldemort has disappeared to. A full year and not a word, it is sinister."

"Illuminabus" came a shout, and Ron Weasley's books and robe exploded into flame.

"Oh, shi… dear, I was meant to keep those for Ginny,"  
"Never mind, you can ask Neville for his, his flame spells never work." Hermoine consoled him. And indeed Neville was running in circles around a heap of undamaged books, his eyebrows aflame.

"Harry, help me put him out."

"To hell with Nevil, " Harry swore foully, "I have been so anxious waiting for Voldemort to pop up that I could not study. With my results, I'll be lucky to get into Elf Homemaking College. Or Oxford. Let's go to Hogsmeade and check out some tequila slammers."

But before he left a first year came up to him shyly with a note from McGonagall to visit her in her office.

He knocked and the door, as ever, opened of it's own accord. McGonagall was behind her desk perusing a scroll. On the wall behind a sucession of former headmasters and mistresses dozed in their portraits, all except Dumbledore, who appeared to be very intent on what appeared to be a computer screen, with what looked like a credit card in his hand. When he saw Harry come in he went bright red and covered the screen with his robe.

Harry sighed.

McGonagall looked up and pursed her lips.

"I am afraid Albus has gone to the dogs since he died and discovered the muggle Internet. Gambling was bad enough, but now…" She went red.

"Anyway Harry, before you go I wanted to see you. I have to tell you that you will always be welcome here, and that we will be in communication with you on a regular basis in case you-know-who appears."

Harry nodded, "It is hard to carry on with normal life, knowing that HE is lurking evilly in some vile chasm. I am afraid that my studies suffered over the last year."

She smiled darkly, "Now Harry, you know that someone with a balacne as large as yours is with Gringotts need not worry about getting into college. Look at George Bush.. Now be off with you and be careful in Hogsmeade. Some of those ladies are not all they appear."

Next day, on the train to London, Harry brooded darkly, in between devouring several draughts of Professor Cranius's Patent Hangover Cure to no obvious effect.

He booked into a quiet, expensive, inn off Diagon Alley and sat on the bed.

The room had everything, a mini-bar, en-suite , a waterbed, and a theatre box, about two feet square with a curtain in front. He clicked the remote control box and a cockroach with a number one painted on its back ran out a small door at the end and into a small door at the base of the theatre.

Instantly the curtain drew back and an elf in a loud suit and a bad wig began to read a news report.

Harry clicked number two and a second cockroach ran forth. The newsreader, looking very annoyed, was replaced by a large number of obnoxious elves living together in one house and doing very little but bicker.

After a few moments of this tedium Harry clicked number ten, and the obnoxious elves cleared away their sets and stomped off muttering. Annoyed, Harry pressed "ten" again.

An elf, wearing very little, put his head around the curtain and demanded a Galleon. Harry popped it in the slot, the curtain rolled back, and a second unclothed elf appeared and began behaving in a very forward manner.

Shocked and embarrassed, Harry pressed the "Off" button. The curtain fell, and a few moments later the two elves emerged from the side of the theatre looking very irritated, wearing only towels, and stomped off, pausing only to tell him that they were serious artistes and not used to this kind of treatment, and that he was not getting no Galleon back neither.

Harry flung the remote on the floor and a flurry of numbered cockroches ran under the skirting board.

He lay back on the bed. He was bored, lonely and feeling very self pitying.

There was a rustle at the window and an Owl appeared, bearing a letter.

Greedily he rent it open. "You are invited to a reception at WeasGroup Towers in the City at noon tomorrow." read the beautifully engraved card, with a scrawl underneath, "Please come, we have important news for you, George and Fred."

Harry could go to sleep in peace at last .

If those two had something planned life might not be too boring.

He spent the morning pottering around Diagon Alley, annoyed the staff at Gringotts by querying his interest calculation, and rocked up at WeasGroup Towers promptly at noon. He had quite lost track of the twins because of his study. They had only a small successful enterprise when he saw them last a year before, but this skyscraper was incredible.

A stunningly attractive receptionist greeted him and led him to a fireplace.

" We have a conventional lift for our Muggle clientele, but as a wizard you will prefer the fireplace."

Soot-blackened and sneezing black snot, Harry reeled from the fireplace on the thirty-fifth floor to be met by two neat, beautifully groomed young men. To his amazement they were the twins.

They seemed quite embarrassed by something, probably their clothes, Harry thought.

"Hey guys, what's new?"

"Quite a lot there Harry, since last year. We did not want to bother you during your NEWTS, but we feel we have to bring you up to date now."

They fell silent.

"Hey, what's up guys, looks like business is good."  
Fred grinned, "Very good actually, we have just issued three hundred million in non-redeemable non-cumulative non-voting non-preference shares without dividend rights. As a founder, you will get ten per cent of the funds."

"Hmm, sounds like Parseltongue only not as straightforward" smiled Harry, internally calculating his after tax take assuming he claimed for a dozen or so fake dependents. "Is business that good?"

George nodded, "Yes, since we moved away from kids novelties to adult toys business has boomed, especially with the lifetime batteries. We are in fifty countries now and selling to muggles as well."

"That's great, guys, fantastic. And you run the whole thing yourselves?"  
Their faces fell.

"I am afraid not. Gringotts managed the share issue and they insisted on an appropriate board of directors. We had a psychologist run a profile for the ideal CEO and he gave just one name to a headhunter."

He swallowed.

"There is a board meeting on right now, if you would care to look through the one-way mirror."

They stood very close by him as they opened the curtains and as he leaned forward to look through the glass at the group gathered around the massive table.

Instantly his hand moved in a blur and drew his wand. In a second they trapped his arms and covered his mouth.

"Harry, stop. Please."

"But it's bloody Vol…"

"Of course it is. He is an ideal fit for a CEO. And look beside him. Bellatrix is a wonderful HR person. Not a single problem with the unions, and Narcissa is ideal for public relations. Has never been known to tell the truth under any circumstances. _Even when she could profit by it_."  
"But…but but, they are the incarnation of pure evil..they must be destroyed.."

"Why? They have been here for a year and no-one has suffered, except the small investor of course, but shag him. Voldemort is in fact a financial genius. Attempting to take over the planet in the cause of pure evil was never really what he was cut out for. High finance was. We were making record profits before we ever sold anything."

"Where have all the other Death Eaters disappeared to? All you have is three on the board."

George sighed, "It is impossible to keep good staff in the City. People poach them. Not just the investment banks, at least three are in the Labour Party policy groups."

"And the Dementors?"

Fred rolled his eyes. "Headhunted, the lot of them, within a fortnight of them joining us. All by Big Four Accounting firms. At partner level."

Potter sighed. That, he had to admit, had been inevitable. Suddenly his eyes narrowed.

"What percentage do I own?"

The Weasleys exchanged looks.

"Ten"

He snorted, "Twenty"

"Twelve"

"Fifteen or I unite the combined forces of good behind me to destroy Voldemort and his Death Eating cohorts."

"Fifteen it is"

"Excellent, shall we have lunch? On the company of course."


End file.
